


You Should Be Happy

by grumblebumble



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, or at least as slow as i'm able to write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23571856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumblebumble/pseuds/grumblebumble
Summary: Ratchet is hopelessly in love with Drift but thinks that a) Drift would never be interested in him if he were the last mech in the universe, and b) Drift is in a relationship with Rodimus. He's trying to cope and doing so in his typical fashion, which is to say poorly.Drift is hopelessly in love with Ratchet, but thinks that he isn't good enough for the medic. He's reluctantly going along with Rodimus's questionable matchmaking schemes in the hopes he and Ratchet could at least get a friendship out of it. He's miserable.Rodimus is at the end of his rope and just wants the two of them to get their shit figured out so he doesn't have to skip out on any more date nights with Mags.
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet, Rodimus Prime/Ultra Magnus (background)
Comments: 74
Kudos: 169





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all!  
> This is my first contribution to the fandom but I've loved mtmte/ll for a couple years now and I finally decided to make a little something for my favorite ship rather than just lurking in the tag.  
> I'm not going to promise you a regular update schedule because life is a thing that happens and sometimes fucks shit up, but I hope you'll be willing to stick with me through this.  
> Please enjoy, and thank you all for being a pretty great group of people!

A peal of laughter broke out over the dull hum of conversation in Swerve’s, prompting Ratchet to look up from his drink. Rodimus was making his way to the bar, and Drift followed close behind, still snickering at whatever the orange mech had said. Frag.

Ratchet turned his attention back to his drink, pulling his field tight around him and doing his best to look like the next mech to speak to him would end up with their aft welded to the wall. He wasn’t nearly drunk enough to see the two of them together, to try and hold a conversation while Drift clung to Rodimus’s every word and pretend it didn’t make his spark break. But Ratchet knew he was also just drunk enough that his field would betray him at the drop of a hat.

So he hunched his shoulders forward and gestured to Swerve to bring him another cube, hoping he’d be able to hit that sweet spot of inebriation where nothing mattered before the speedsters – before _Drift_ – noticed him.

“Heya doc!”

Too fragging late. Ratchet sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before turning to face the captain and TIC.

“Evening Rodimus, Drift.”

“Hi Ratchet,” Drift said with a soft smile Ratchet knew was designed to hide his fangs.

Rodimus sprawled himself out on the booth across from Ratchet without invitation and pulled Drift down to sit next to him. Ratchet held back the urge to slam his head against the table and instead managed a sardonic smile.

“Why don’t you have a seat?”

Rodimus had the good grace to look a bit sheepish before diving headfirst into conversation.

“So, how’s our favorite CMO doing on this fine evening? Better than this morning? Mags swears up and down he heard you yelling all the way from the bridge.”

Drift perked up a little, looking between Rodimus and Ratchet. “What? What happened?”

“Whirl being himself,” Ratchet grumbled. Prompted by Drift’s curious expression, he continued.

“He thought it would be a grand idea to tape one of each kind of his bombs together into a ‘mega-bomb’,” Ratchet used sarcastic quotation marks, “and then set it off to see what would happen. And, well, you can guess what happened.”

Drift cringed.

“Luckily he was the only mech in the vicinity, but it wasn’t what I would call a good morning.”

“Well,” Drift said, “at least he’ll be out of commission for a bit?”

Ratchet shrugged a noncommittally. As if grievous injuries had ever stopped Whirl. Drift seemed to deflate a little.

“Ah, don’t mind the old grump being a grump,” Rodimus said, throwing his arm around Drift’s shoulders and smiling conspiratorially, “How about we tell old Ratchet here what _we_ got up to today?”

“I doubt Ratchet wants to hear about our riveting hours spent filling out paperwork that you _could_ have got done _weeks_ ago if you weren’t such a procrastinator, Roddy,” Drift replied teasingly.

“Aw, babe, that hurts,” Rodimus whined, nuzzling his head up under Drift’s chin and making exaggerated puppy-dog eyes.

A flicker of pain went through Ratchet’s spark at their use of pet names, at how easily they flowed into each other’s space, at the indulgent look on Drift’s face as he playfully shoved Rodimus’s face away. Ratchet held back a grimace and threw back the last of his drink.

“Well, it was nice seeing you,” he said as he stood up from the table, “but I’ve had a long day and I have another early shift tomorrow.”

“So soon?” Drift asked, and Ratchet could almost make himself believe the mech sounded disappointed. Almost.

“You’re not missing much in the way of sparkling conversation, kid. See you at the officer’s meeting tomorrow.”

Ratchet waved Swerve off when the mech tried to give him the drink he’d ordered, and as soon as he was out of the bar, he began walking to his hab suite as fast as he could without drawing attention.

As the door to his suite slid closed behind him, Ratchet sank onto his berth, knees creaking a little as he went down. Primus, he was old. Old, cantankerous, less than half as good at his job as everyone thought he was, and stupidly in love with a mech who would never love him back.

_Frag_ , he thought, zings of envy and sadness running through his field as he remembered the casual way Drift and Rodimus had touched each other, _how pathetic can I get?_

He should be _happy_ for Drift. Happy that he had someone who loved him and treated him well and gave him all the attention and praise he could need, even if it wasn’t him. Frag, _especially_ if it wasn’t him.

Ratchet had no delusions that he would be even a mediocre partner to drift. He had a shit personality; a workaholic with a belligerent streak wider than the Lost Light and more trauma than Rung could help with in his entire lifetime, and he didn’t even have the looks to make up for it the way he used to. He would never make Drift happy. But Rodimus could, he _was_ , and Ratchet should suck it up and be happy that Drift was happy.

Why couldn’t he?

Ratchet pulled his feet up onto the bed and yanked the covers over him with a groan. Maybe he could just sleep away the self-pity and pretend to be properly functioning in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I am completely floored by how much love this got in such a short time! As a special treat, here's the second chapter way earlier than I was planning!  
> It's really short and kinda just filler, but I wanted to give a bit of Drift's perspective on the situation before moving onto the main plot.  
> Hope y'all enjoy!

Drift flung himself facedown onto Rodimus’s bed and started screaming into the pillow. That had been a total disaster. He’d barely even _spoken_ to Ratchet and he _still_ put the medic on edge. They hadn’t even made it to the five-minute mark before Ratchet had decided he couldn’t get out of Swerve’s fast enough!

The bed shifted as Rodimus sat down next to him, and Drift slowly quieted as his amica rubbed his back.

“Okay, so maybe it didn’t go _great_ ,” Roddy said, “but it wasn’t the disaster you seem to think it was, either.”

Drift lifted his face from the pillow just long enough to give Rodimus a halfhearted glare before returning to his wallowing.

“Look, the doc’s a tough nut to crack. Doesn’t matter who you are or how long you’ve known him, he’s not exactly the touchy-feely type. And the fact he had to deal with Whirl first thing this morning probably didn’t do anything to help that.”

Drift turned on his side to face his amica. He didn’t necessarily _believe_ what Roddy was saying, but it was always nice to hear that something wasn’t his fault. Rodimus spared a moment to lay down facing Drift before continuing.

“And come on, it’s not like you’ll never see him again. We’ve got the officer’s meeting tomorrow, and Primus knows this ship sees enough chaos that the med bay should probably have a rewards program. Plus, he’s always at Swerve’s after shifts. You’ve got time, Drift, and you should take it. You’ve gotta know each other, you’ve gotta make a connection. The Hatchet doesn’t let mechs in easily and that’s got nothing to do with you and everything to do with him.”

Drift felt tears prickling in his optics.

“I _want_ him Roddy. Like I’ve never wanted anyone or anything before. I want him to be happy, I want to _make_ him happy. I don’t even care if he loves me, I just want to be near him and make him smile. I…”

Drift choked back a sob.

“I know babe,” Rodimus said, pulling him into a hug, “I know. And you’re gonna have him. I promise. Maybe you’re not gonna be sparkmates, but you’re gonna be friends. We’re gonna _make_ him like you, babe, I promise.”

Drift huffed out a wet laugh at Rodimus’s surety. As if Ratchet would ever want to be friends with a gutter trash ex-‘con, let alone sparkmates. Rodimus grabbed Drift’s face, smooshing his cheeks and shaking his head around.

“Hey, no, none of that. Listen to me. You have a shitty past. You’ve done shitty, fucked-up things. I’m not gonna lie to you about that.”

Drifts finials drooped.

“But you’re past that. You’ve gotten _better_. You are kind, and loyal, and smart, and funny, and you’re the hottest damn mech on this entire ship, maybe even all of Cybertron. You’re a goddamn catch and if Ratchet can’t see that then he doesn’t deserve you. Okay?”

Drift stayed silent.

“Okay?” Rodimus asked more forcefully, bringing Drift’s face closer to his.

After a long moment, Drift nodded and Rodimus’s face softened.

“Okay,” he said again, warmer this time, “okay. So here’s what’s gonna happen: you’re gonna sleep here tonight, and tomorrow morning you’re gonna knock the docbot dead at the meeting.”

“And how am I gonna do that?”

“Don’t worry, babe, I’ve got a plan.”

With that, Rodimus turned out the lights and the two of them drifted off into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated, and thank you all once again for all the kind words!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all!  
> Sorry it's been a while, but as it turns out moving in the middle of a global pandemic is no walk in the park.  
> Thanks for being patient, hope you enjoy this new chapter! <3

Ratchet woke up with a headache.

It was the kind of headache that came from sleeping but not getting any rest or having enough to drink that your body felt the need to remind you of the possible side effects without subjecting you to the full hangover. Both were a possibility, but Ratchet elected not to waste time figuring out which it was and just skip to being in a foul mood.

He dragged himself out of his berth and trudged to his energon dispenser. He was in for a long fragging day.

By the time Ratchet’s shift ended and he started making his way to the bridge for the officer’s meeting he’d replaced seven limbs, rebuilt an optic for Tailgate after he’d cracked a casing on his stupid hoverboard, run two system reboots, re-calibrated Sunstreaker’s gyro systems because the idiot once again forgot he couldn’t take corners at max speeds and acquainted himself very closely with a wall, and pounded out more dents than he could count. He was tired, he was pissed, and he had to spend the next two hours of his off shift in a meeting that he didn’t give a shit about but still had to attend because “officer” was in his job title.

As he stomped onto the bridge and toward the meeting room, Ratchet did nothing to conceal the snappishness in his field. If he had to be there when he didn’t want to, everyone could damn well deal with him being in a bad mood. But then the meeting room door slid open and Ratchet abruptly yanked his field so tight it was almost under his plating.

Drift was already there.

Drift was already there, and he was looking at Ratchet.

On any other morning Ratchet would have left his field alone like the unapologetic curmudgeon he was, but today his sour mood was inexorably tied to his feeling for the Drift, and the last thing he wanted was his emotions spilling over and making a mess for the speedster to deal with.

Ratchet trudged to his seat (unfortunately directly across from Drift) and settled in to wait for their perpetually tardy captain. A good fifteen or twenty minutes after Ratchet had found himself dragged into small talk with Red Alert, Rodimus finally arrived and kicked of the meeting with his usual high-energy bluster.

Ratchet allowed his focus to wander during the meeting. Nine times out of ten the medbay was completely left out of the discussions during these little fiascos and Ratchet would only have to pay enough attention to know if he was being asked a question. Normally it gave Ratchet a small sense of pride, knowing that he kept the medbay orderly enough that it wasn’t worth talking about. Today, he just wanted the meeting to be over quickly so he wouldn’t have to be pinned with the strange, pitying looks Drift had been throwing his way from almost the moment he’d sat down.

“And that should about wrap things up, just one more item on the agenda regarding the medbay,” Rodimus said, pulling Ratchet out of his reverie.

“Yeah? What about it?” he grumbled.

“Magnus told me you’d mentioned having some problems with getting crew members to come to their appointments. That still happening.”

“Well, considering the last time I tried to do something about it I got chewed out about not being authorized to “use force” or “take disciplinary measures”, yeah, it’s still a fragging problem,” he replied, shooting a glare Magnus’ way.

“Well, it’s a problem I’ve got a solution to!”

Ratchet did not like the wide grin on Rodimus’ face. Nothing good ever happened when he looked like that.

“ _You_ may not be authorized to use… _unconventional_ methods to round your patients up, but Drift here is,” Rodimus threw his arm around the other speedster’s shoulders, “So here’s the plan. You and Drift are gonna work together on this. You give him the list of problem patients, give him any information that may help him run ‘em down, and he’ll haul ‘em in for you until everybody’s come to their check-up!”

Ratchet’s stomach lurched. There was no way he’d be able to spend the amount of time around Drift that would require without his pesky little feelings being sussed out. He’d only just gotten to be acquaintances with Drift and that was about to go right out the window. For his part, Drift’s face had gone completely stony the moment Rodimus had shared his little idea, so he clearly wasn’t happy at the prospect either. That stung a little more than Ratchet expected.

“It’s a damn long list we’d be working from,” he said, trying to keep his face and field as inexpressive as possible “are you sure you want your TIC spending all his time running point on this? Any member of the security team would work just as well.”

“Please, the security team is about as threatening as an earth kitten. If your reputation isn’t enough to get mechs to their appointments, then you need to have someone at least as scary as you to back you up.”

It was a remarkably hard point to argue, he’d give him that. Even if Drift wasn’t particularly scary if you cared to pay attention to anything other than his reputation, most of the crewmembers didn’t bother to get to know him. Ratchet sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine,” he grumbled, “But if it doesn’t work, I’m gonna start taking wrenches to helms and I’d better not hear a peep about it from Magnus.”

Rodimus beamed.

“Great! It’s a deal,” he said, and began chattering about his apparent pet project over Magnus’ protests.

Drift's face remained impassive, but Ratchet could have sworn he felt anger simmering up from his field. He sincerely hoped it was because of Rodimus calling him scary and not because Drift was that against spending time around him.

Ratchet squashed those thoughts down. As the meeting adjourned, he pulled out a flimsy from his subspace and copied the list of overdue patients onto it from his datapad. The sooner he got the list to Drift, the sooner they would be done, and the less likely it was for what tenuous connection he had with Drift to be completely destroyed.

At last Ratchet stood from his seat and began to make his way over to where Drift and Rodimus were huddled together, speaking in whispers. As he drew closer, he began to make out some of what Drift was saying.

“I can’t believe you would do this… I can’t work with _Ratchet_ , this the worst idea you’ve ever had!”

… Well then.

Ratchet took a steadying breath and changed his trajectory towards the meeting room door, putting the flimsy back in his subspace as he did so. Maybe it was best to let Drift cool down before talking shop. And he certainly didn’t want to get in the middle of his and Rodimus’ little lover’s quarrel.

He decided to skip Swerve’s for the evening, walking past the entrance without a second glance even as Swerve called to him in greeting and instead heading straight to his habsuite. As he walked Ratchet tried to tell himself that maybe it was a good thing that Drift liked him even less than previously thought, that maybe if the mech had such disdain for Ratchet it would make it easier for him to get over his ill-advised crush. Maybe it would save him from sparkbreak in the long term.

But try as he might, he couldn’t convince himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated, and I hope this chapter was worth the wait! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody, it's been a while. I've started working remotely, which is great because it gives me money, but it also means I don't have as much time as I'd like to write.  
> Hope this chapter is worth the wait!

“I can’t believe you would do this… I can’t work with _Ratchet_ , this the worst idea you’ve ever had!”

“Whoa, babe, chill! It’s all gonna work out, I’ve got a plan!”

“And you couldn’t _inform me_ as to what that plan is before you set it in motion?” Drift hissed, baring his fangs in a display that would have sent any other mech cowering in the opposite direction. As it was, Rodimus just rolled his eyes.

“Like you would have gone along with it…”

Drift glared even harder.

“Look, you want Doc to like you? You’ve gotta spend time with him so he can get to know you. And that’s not gonna happen with him being a recluse who barely socializes outside of work, and _you_ ,” Rodimus booped Drift’s nose, “taking any reaction of his that’s not immediately a thousand percent positive as some kind of disaster scenario and running off into the wild blue yonder to throw a pity party about how he’ll never like you.”

That stung, but Drift couldn’t even say he was wrong. Roddy sighed fondly and threw an arm over Drift’s shoulder.

“Just give it some time, alright? Three days. Three days, and after that if you still think it’s awful, we can call it quits. But you can’t just give up before trying cause it _might not_ work. Love’s a scary thing Drift, but you’re no coward.”

With that Rodimus left the meeting room, practically skipping to where Magnus was waiting for him on the bridge and leaving Drift to ponder his amica’s parting words.

And ponder them he did.

Drift pondered through his evening exercises, his meditation, his shower. He pondered over a cube of mid-grade, while filing his day’s reports, and through a fitful night of sleep. And he pondered as he awoke far earlier than he was used to, groggily prepared for his day, and made the all-too familiar trek to the medbay.

Drift pondered so much, in fact, that he nearly walked straight into the very mech he was pondering over.

“Welcome to working medic shifts, kid. Here’s the list,” Ratchet said brusquely, hardly seeming to register Drift’s stammered-out apology.

Drift took the datapad that had been thrust in his face and began scrolling through the list of names. There were a lot of them.

“I sorted them by who’s proven hardest to wrangle in the past. I’m hoping if we manage to drag enough of the ‘tough guys’ to medbay kicking and screaming for the whole ship to see, the fewer mechs we’ll actually have to hunt down in the long run.”

Drift nodded absentmindedly. That certainly explained why Fortress Maximus was at the top of the list.

“Anyway, just tap the name their schedule will pop up, should help you find them.”

Ratchet turned and started walking in the direction of First Aid, who seemed to be having some problems with a jumble of wires on one of the berths.

“Wait, is that it?” Drift blurted, not wanting to waste a chance to actually talk to the medic. Ratchet turned back to him.

“What do you mean ‘is that it’? What more do you need?”

“No advice? No tips on how to handle anyone? There’s nothing else?”

“Look kid, you don’t want to be here any more than I want you here,” and Primus did that hurt to hear, “why waste any more time on this than we have to? The sooner you get started the sooner you can get back to your actual job.”

“Right,” Drift said around the lump in his throat, “I’ll get started then.”

Ratchet nodded at him tersely and resumed his path to First Aid.

Drift pulled up Fortress Maximus’ schedule. It was pretty bare bones given… well, pretty much every aspect of his life for the last few centuries, actually. But he did have an appointment with Rung that had just started. Drift wasn’t too keen on harassing a traumatized one-mech army into going to a checkup, especially when said one-mech army had some very… _aggressive_ opinions about Drift. But he’d rather get in a fight with Fortress Maximus than disappoint Ratchet more than he already had.

It was a long walk to Rung’s office (and he did have to walk. After one too many collisions, Magnus had decided hallways weren’t an appropriate place to use alt modes), and Drift spent that time wracking his brains over what he could have done to piss Ratchet off before he’d even spoken to the medic.

It was no secret that Ratchet had a short fuse and a sharp tongue, but that legendary temper was normally channeled into things that were, well… important. Patients not following his directions or keeping things from him when he needed the truth to help them. And surly as he was, it was very rare for Ratchet to actually take his frustrations out on undeserving mechs.

Conclusion: Drift had done something really bad, or many not-so-bad things that all piled up, in the last day or so, and him walking straight into Ratchet first thing in the morning had simply been the last straw.

He had to fix this. He had to do a good job on this. Most of the mecha he ran into hated Drift, and for the most part he didn’t give a flying frag what they thought. Ratchet though… If Ratchet hated him, Drift wasn’t sure what he’d do.

In the end, getting Fortress Maximus to the medbay was mind-bogglingly easy.

Drift had simply waited until the mech’s appointment was over and stepped in front of him as he exited Rung’s office.

“Word is you haven’t shown your face in the medbay for a checkup, Maximus,” Drift said, flashing the barest hint of fang and resting a hand on one of his swords, “I’m here to make sure you manage to find your way down there.”

“Excuse me?” said Rung, who Drift had honestly not noticed was still standing in the doorway. The therapist furrowed his impressive eyebrows and leveled a surprisingly intimidating gaze at Maximus.

“Do you mean to tell me that after all the times that I have insisted you visit the medbay you _still_ haven’t gone?”

Fortress Maximus somehow managed to look sheepish.

“Well, I’m… I’m going now,” he said.

“Good,” Rung said, and turned to Drift, “see to it that he actually gets there. I’ve lost count of how many referrals I’ve sent to get him to see Ratchet.”

Drift nodded a little dumbly and took off after Maximus, who’d started making his way to the medbay at a steady clip. Drift had never seen a mech so eager to subject themselves to Ratchet’s scolding.

Drift and Fortress Maximus arrived at the medbay in tandem, but Maximus was swept away by First Aid to get set up on a berth and hooked up to monitors, and Drift was left standing in the middle of the medbay wondering what to do with himself.

He heard a clattering behind him and turned to see Ratchet rushing out of his office and towards the berth the Fortress Maximus was sitting on. He looked at Drift briefly and did a double take, slowing to a stop.

“You’re both in one piece,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

“The mech listens to his therapist. Wasn’t that hard,” Drift said with a shrug.

Ratchet cracked that little half smile that never failed to make Drift’s tanks do somersaults.

“Nice job kid.”

And Drift was alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to move along...  
> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated, and thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comments and kudos would be much appreciated if you enjoyed it, and hopefully I'll have another chapter up in the relatively near future! <3


End file.
